by Wilbur Smith
At the last possible second the falcon flared out of the stoop, and hovered above the boy’s head. Nefer reached up and could almost touch the sleek, beautiful plumage of its breast. For a moment Taita thought that the bird might allow itself to be captured, but then it changed its wingbeats and rose on high. Once again it uttered that forlorn and lovely cry, then sped away toward the sun and seemed to disappear into the flaming orb.
On his last visit to Gebel Nagara Hilto had brought with him a full-weight war bow. Under Taita’s instruction Nefer practiced with it every day, building up the muscles in his back and shoulders until he had the strength to throw up the weapon, draw to full stretch and hold his aim without his arms beginning to tire and shake. Then, at Taita’s word of command, he would send an arrow arcing high to drop onto the target two hundred cubits distant.
Nefer cut himself a heavy acacia-wood staff from a hidden grove in the foothills and shaped, scraped and polished it until it had perfect balance and length in his hands. In the cool of the dawn, he and Taita fought in the traditional fashion. At first Nefer held back in deference to Taita’s age, but the Magus bloodied his shins and raised a lump on his scalp. Furious and humiliated, Nefer attacked in earnest, but the old man was quick and nimble. He hopped just out of reach of Nefer’s slashing staff, then darted in to impart a painful rap on an unprotected elbow or knee.
Taita had lost little of his skill with the blade. Hilto had brought them a rack of heavy sickle swords, and when Taita decided that they had had sufficient practice with the fighting staffs, he brought out the swords and led Nefer and Meren through the entire repertoire of cuts, thrusts and parries. He made them repeat every maneuver fifty times, then start again. By the time he called a halt for supper both Nefer and Meren were flushed and running with sweat as though they had plunged into a pool of the Nile. Taita’s skin, though, was dry and cool. When Meren remarked ruefully on this, he chuckled. “I sweated my last drop of juice before you were ever born.”
On other evenings Nefer and Meren stripped naked, oiled their bodies and wrestled, while Taita umpired their bouts and called advice and instruction. Although Meren was taller by a hand and heavier in the shoulders and limbs, Nefer had natural balance and Taita had taught him how to use his opponent’s weight against him. They matched each other throw for throw.
In the evenings and late into the night Taita and Nefer sat by the fire and debated every subject from medicine and politics to war and religion. Often Taita would outline a theory, then require Nefer to discover any flaws in his postulates and arguments. He placed hidden traps and illogicalities in these lessons, and more often now, and with greater alacrity, Nefer would uncover and question them. Then there was always the bao board to puzzle over in the attempt to unravel the laws and infinite possibilities inherent in the movements and patterns of the stones.
“If you could understand all there is to know of the bao stones, you would know all there is to know of life itself,” Taita told him. “The subtleties and nuances of the game tune and sharpen the mind to the greater mysteries.”
The month passed so swiftly that it was with a small shock of surprise that Nefer, while running hard through the desert in pursuit of a mortally wounded gazelle, suddenly descried on the horizon, distorted by the mirage, a tiny cloud of yellow dust, and beneath it the distant shape of the wagon returning from the river valley. On the instant, he forgot the gazelle he was chasing and raced to meet Hilto. Even though Hilto was accustomed to feats of physical prowess from his men, he was impressed with the speed at which Nefer covered the ground through the shimmering heat.
“Hilto!” Nefer yelled, still at a distance, and without any sign of labored breathing. “May the gods love you and grant you eternal life! What news? What news?”
Hilto pretended to misunderstand the significance of the question, and as Nefer walked at his side he began a long-winded recital of political and social events in the kingdoms. “There has been another rebellion in the north. This time Trok found it harder to put down. He lost four hundred men in three days of hard fighting, and half the rebels escaped his wrath.”
“Hilto, you know that is not what I wanted to hear from you.”
Hilto indicated Bay with a jerk of his head. “Perhaps this is not the time to touch on certain matters,” he suggested tactfully. “Your Majesty, should we not speak later and in private?”
Nefer was forced to contain his impatience.
As they sat that evening around the campfire in the cave, it was agony for Nefer to have to listen to Hilto making another long, detailed report to Taita, the most important part of which was that the substitution of bodies had been discovered when the priests of Anubis had unwrapped the head of the corpse in the Hall of Sorrow. Pharaoh Naja Kiafan had done his best to suppress the news and to prevent it becoming public knowledge, for the foundations of his throne would be undermined if the populace suspected that Nefer was still alive. However, it was impossible to keep such an extraordinary event secret when many people, priests and courtiers, were privy to it. Hilto reported that rumors were rife in the streets and market-places of the city of Thebes and the outlying towns and villages.
Partly as a result of these rumors, the unrest in both kingdoms had become more widespread and concerted. The rebels were calling themselves the Blue Faction. Blue was the color of the Tamosian dynasty; Naja had selected green as his own royal color, and Trok’s was red.
Added to this, trouble was brewing in the east. The Egyptian pharaohs had sent the Hurrian ambassador back to his master, King Sargon of Babylon, that mighty kingdom between the Tigris and Euphrates, demanding that Sargon’s annual tribute be increased to twenty lakhs of gold. It was a crippling amount to which Sargon could never agree.
“So, this accounts for the build-up of the armies in both kingdoms,” Taita said, as Hilto paused in his report. “It is clear at last that the two pharaohs are greedy for the riches of Mesopotamia. They are intent on conquest. After Babylon, they will turn on Libya and Chaldea. They will not rest until the entire world comes under their sway.”
Hilto looked amazed. “I had not considered that, but you must be right.”
“They are as cunning as two old baboons raiding the farmers’ fields along the riverbank. They know that war is a uniting factor. If they march on Mesopotamia the populace will rally behind them in a patriotic frenzy. The army loves the prospect of booty and glory. The merchants love the prospect of increased trade and profit. It is a marvelous way to take the minds of the people off their grievances.”
“Yes.” Hilto nodded. “I see it now.”
“Of course, this is to our advantage,” Taita mused. “I have been seeking a haven for us. If he is at war with Trok and Naja, then Sargon will welcome us to his side.”
“We are leaving Egypt?” Hilto interjected.
Taita explained, “Now that Naja and Trok know that Nefer still lives, they will come after us. The road to the east is the only one open to us. It will not be for long, just until we have built up our strength and support throughout the two kingdoms and have made ourselves powerful allies. Then we will return to reclaim Pharaoh Nefer’s birthright.”
They all stared at him silently as they recovered from the shock of this prospect. They had not thought so far ahead, and it had never occurred to them that they would be forced to leave their native land.
It was Nefer who broke the silence. “We can’t do that,” he said. “I cannot leave Egypt.”
Taita glanced at the others, and jerked his head in dismissal. Obediently Hilto, Bay and Meren stood up and filed out of the cave.
Taita had been anticipating this situation. He knew it would take all his cunning to resolve it, for Nefer wore his set expression and had made his declaration in a stubborn tone that Taita recognized. He knew it was going to be difficult to move Nefer from this position. The boy was staring into the fire, and Taita realized he must force him to break his silence. When he did so, Taita’s position would be strengthened.
“You should have discussed this plan with me,” Nefer said at last. “I am no longer a child, Taita. I am man and Pharaoh.”
“I told you my intentions,” Taita said quietly.
They sat in silence again, staring into the flames of the fire, and Taita could sense the cracks appearing in Nefer’s resolve.
At last Nefer spoke again. “You see, there is Mintaka.”
Still Taita said nothing. Intuitively he understood that they were approaching a crisis in their relationship. It had had to come at some time, so he made no effort to avoid it.
“I sent Mintaka a message,” Nefer said. “I told her I loved her, and I gave her an oath on my life and eternal spirit that I would not desert her.”
Now Taita broke his silence. “Are you certain that Mintaka received this foolhardy oath of yours that placed you, her and all around you in mortal danger?”
“Yes, of course. Hilto—” Nefer stopped and his expression changed as he stared at Taita across the flames of the campfire. Suddenly he sprang up and strode to the cave entrance. He moved not like a boy but like a man, an angry man. In these last few short months he had changed completely. Taita experienced a deep satisfaction. The way ahead would be hard, and Nefer would need all this new-found strength and determination.
“Hilto!” Nefer called into the darkness. “Come to me.” Perhaps Hilto heard the new authority in his tone, because he came swiftly and dropped to one knee before Nefer.
“Majesty?” he asked.
“Did you deliver the message I entrusted to you?” Nefer demanded.
Hilto glanced at Taita beside the fire.
“Don’t look to him,” Nefer snapped. “I am asking you the question. Answer me.”
“I did not deliver the message,” Hilto answered. “Do you wish to know the reason why I did not?”
“I know the reason well enough,” Nefer said ominously. “But hear this. If ever you willfully disobey me at any time in the future you will pay the full penalty.”
“I understand,” Hilto said stolidly.
“If there is ever again a choice between Pharaoh and an interfering old man, you will choose Pharaoh. Is that clear to you?”
“It is clear as the midday sun.” Hilto hung his head penitently, but smiled into his beard.
“You have been evading my questions, Hilto. Now, what news do you have of the Princess?”
Hilto stopped smiling, and opened and closed his mouth, trying to find the courage to tell him the dire news.
“Speak!” Nefer ordered. “Have you so soon forgotten your duty?”
“Gracious Majesty, the news will not please you. Six weeks ago the Princess Mintaka was married in Avaris to Pharaoh Trok Uruk.”
Nefer stood as still as if he had been turned into a granite statue. For a long time the only sound in the cave was the crackle of the acacia logs in the fire. Then, without another word, Nefer walked past Hilto, out into the desert night.
When he returned, the dawn was a faint red promise in the eastern sky. Hilto and Meren were wrapped in their sheepskins at the back of the cave, but Taita sat in exactly the same position as Nefer had left him. For a moment he thought that the old man was asleep also. Then Taita raised his head and looked at him with eyes that were bright and alert in the firelight.
“I was wrong, and you were right. I need you now, more than ever, old friend,” said Nefer. “You will not desert me?”
“You need not ask,” Taita said softly.
“I cannot leave her with Trok,” Nefer said.
“No.”
Nefer came back to his seat opposite Taita, who took a slow, deep breath. The storm had passed. They were still together.
Nefer picked up a charred stump of firewood and pushed it deeper into the flames. Then he looked up at Taita again. “You have tried to teach me to overlook at a distance,” he said. “I have never acquired the gift. Not until this last night. Out there in the darkness and the great silence, I tried again to overlook Mintaka. This time I saw something, Taita, but only dimly and I did not understand it.”
“Your love for her has made you sensitive to her aura,” Taita explained. “What did you see?”
“I saw only shadows, but I felt devastating sorrow and grief. I sensed despair so insupportable that it made me wish for death myself. I knew that these were Mintaka’s emotions and not my own.”
Taita stared expressionlessly into the fire, and Nefer went on, “You must overlook her for me. There is something terribly wrong. Only you can help her now, Taita.”
“Do you have anything of Mintaka’s?” he asked. “Any gift or token that she gave you?”
Nefer’s hand went to the necklace at his throat. He touched the tiny golden locket that hung in the center of the chain. “It is my most precious possession.”
Taita held out his hand across the fire. “Give it to me.” Nefer hesitated, then opened the clasp and held the amulet in his closed fist.
“Other than my own, hers were the last fingers to touch it. It contains a lock of her hair.”
“Then it is highly potent. It contains her essence. Give it to me, if you wish me to help her.” Nefer passed it to him.
“Wait here,” Taita said, and stood up. Although he had squatted cross-legged through all the hours of darkness, there was no stiffness in his movements, which were those of a young, virile man. He went out into the dawn and climbed to the crest of the dunes, then gathered the skirts of his chiton around his skinny shanks and squatted in the sand, facing the dawn.
He pressed Mintaka’s amulet to his forehead and closed his eyes. He began to rock slightly from side to side. The sun cleared the horizon and struck fully into his face.
The amulet in his right hand seemed to take on some strange life of its own. Taita felt it pulse softly in rhythm to his own heartbeats. He opened his mind and let the currents of existence enter freely, swirling around him like a great river. His own spirit broke free of his body and he soared aloft. As though he were borne on the wings of some gigantic bird, he saw fleeting, confused images of lands and cities, forests, plains and deserts far below him. He saw armies on the march, the squadrons throwing up thunderclouds of yellow dust in which spearheads glinted. He saw ships on high seas battered by wave and wind. He saw cities burning as they were sacked, and he heard strange voices in his head, and knew they were from the past and the future. He saw the faces of those long dead, and those not yet born.
He moved on, his spirit ranging wide, always with the amulet his lodestone. In his mind he called for her, Mintaka! and felt the amulet grow warm, then burning hot in his hand.
Slowly the images cleared away, and he heard her sweet voice reply, “I am here. Who is it that calls?”
“Mintaka, it is Taita,” he replied, but he was aware that something evil had intervened and broken the stream between them. Mintaka had gone and instead there was a fateful presence. He focused all his powers upon it, trying to disperse the dark clouds. They seemed to coalesce, and took the shape of a rearing cobra, the same baleful influence that he and Nefer had encountered in the nest of the royal falcon on the cliffs of Bir Umm Masara.
In his mind he wrestled with the cobra, extending his powers to drive it back, but rather than succumbing, the image of the serpent became clearer and more menacing. Suddenly he knew that this was not a psychic manifestation, but a direct and mortal threat exerted against Mintaka. He redoubled his efforts to break through the curtains of evil and to reach her, but so much pain and grief was interposed between them that it was an impenetrable barrier.
Then, suddenly, he saw a hand, slim and graceful, reach out toward the sinister scaly head. He knew it was Mintaka’s hand, for the blue lapis lazuli ring on the index finger was engraved with her cartouche. He held the venomous serpent in check with all his life force, and prevented it from striking at Mintaka’s hand as she stroked the back of its extended hood. The cobra turned half away from her, almost like a cat offering its head to be caressed.
&n
bsp; “Make it do what has to be done.” Taita heard Mintaka’s voice, and another voice he recognized replied, “This I have never seen before. You must strike the messenger with your hand. That will surely make him deliver the gift of the goddess.” It was the voice of the high priestess of the temple of Hathor in Avaris, and Taita understood. Mintaka, overwhelmed with grief, was about to take the way of the goddess.
“Mintaka!” He exerted himself to reach her, and was rewarded at last.
“Taita?” she whispered, and because Mintaka was at last aware of him, Taita’s view expanded so that he could see it all clearly.
Mintaka was in a stone-walled bedchamber. She was kneeling in front of a basket. The holy priestess was at her side, and in front of her reared the deadly snake.
“You must not take this road,” Taita ordered her. “It is not for you. The gods have prepared a different destiny for you. Do you hear me?”
“Yes!” Mintaka turned her head toward him, as though she could see his face.
“Nefer is alive. Nefer lives. Do you hear me?”
“Yes! Oh, yes!”
“Be strong, Mintaka. We will come for you. Nefer and I will come for you.”
So fierce was his concentration that he dug his fingernails deeply into the palms of his hands until the blood welled, but he could hold her no longer. She began to slip away from him, her image blurred and faded, but before she was gone he saw her smile, a beautiful thing, full of love and renewed hope.
“Be strong!” he urged her. “Be strong, Mintaka!” The echo of his voice came back to him as though from a great distance.
Nefer was waiting for him at the foot of the dunes. When Taita was only halfway down, the boy realized that something momentous had taken place. “You saw her!” he shouted, and it was not a question. “What has happened to her?” and he ran forward to meet Taita.
“She needs us,” Taita said, and laid a hand on Nefer’s shoulder. He could never tell him of the extremes of sorrow and despair in which he had found Mintaka, nor of the fate she had prepared for herself. Nefer could never bear that. It might easily drive him to some wild endeavor that would destroy both the lovers. “You were right,” Taita went on. “All my plans to leave this land and find sanctuary in the east must be set aside. We have to go to Mintaka. I have promised her that.”